Just as Planned
by Schermionie
Summary: Percy has a plan and the mental file marked 'Operation: Surprise Hermione' to prove it. He's forgotten one very important fact, however: no plan survives contact with Hermione Weasley. [A oneshot romance for SocietyMember.]


**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling, this is Harry Potter. Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling. Oh, you've met before? I'm sorry. I had no idea.

**Note on timeline/AU:** This is set a few years post-canon, in a world where Hermione and Ron's romance never happened. I thought I should make a note of this in case it is not clear from the text.

**A/N:** This story is for SocietyMember, who wrote me a wonderful ficlet about Potter family relations. Huge thanks to imagined-experiences and Paper Pearls for their patient help with improving my lazy first drafts. =)

* * *

Percy Weasley pulls on his cloak, looks around to ensure that everything is indeed in order, and exits his office. "Good night, Serena," he calls as he passes his secretary, a smidgen of the old pomposity in his voice. "Don't stay too much longer, now."

Percy being Percy, he has stayed quite late already, wanting things to be as orderly as possible before he leaves. Hermione has no doubt done the same, so he does not worry about her waiting unduly for him.

Serena glances up from the files she's going over, a wry smile tugging at her lips – amusement at being advised to go home by her workaholic boss, no doubt. "Indeed. Good night, Mr Weasley. I'll see you in three days."

Nodding, he leaves for home.

* * *

The evening sky is hanging darkly enough for the street lamps to be glowing a gentle orange by the time Percy has reached his and Hermione's London townhouse.

"Hermione?" he says as he closes the front door behind him. The silence that follows informs him that she is not yet home. "No matter," he assures himself, pulling off his shoes and coat and striding into the kitchen to make a bolstering cup of tea.

After his tea, he'll feed Crookshanks before making dinner for the humans in the family. Methodical actions such as cooking appeal to Percy: they help to settle his mind and clarify his thoughts.

At any rate, it's his turn tonight, and he can use the time to sort through the file in his mind marked, 'Operation: Surprise Hermione'. It's a neat, well-organised file – of course – but he's feeling the need to sort through it one more time nonetheless. Just as a matter of course.

As he gathers all the ingredients for their meal, he dregs back the political skills he has just left folded in his office filing cabinet and crafts a speech aloud, churning over phrases such as "While we aren't the most extravagant people in the world…" and "I want this to be an anniversary we will be able to remember fondly…"

The words ring out in the kitchen, rising above the low rumbling of the oven as he becomes more and more confident. Without a doubt, Hermione will know he has rehearsed them – but instead of scorning him for it as many might, he hopes, not vainly, that she will consider his efforts romantic.

* * *

"I suppose I'm worrying over nothing, thinking that the place might fall down while I'm not there…"

Percy shakes his head, meeting his wife's tired brown eyes from across the table. "I hardly think so," he says honestly, scooping up the last of his pasta before setting his knife and fork down in a neat line. "Your firm is more of a success than ever, and of course, as its founder and a vital part of the team, you wish to be there. It's understandable. However, you need to have more trust in your colleagues, and… and enjoy your time off!"

The rather exuberant end to his words is due to the laugh already bubbling up in Hermione's throat. His face turns slightly pink at what he perceives as an insult. "What exactly –" he begins to ask, but she cuts him off.

"I'm sorry, Percy. Sometimes, even now, it's still a surprise to me that you've lightened up – that we both have, I suppose. I'm glad, and you're right. It's natural for me to worry, but I need to enjoy myself." She smiles and tucks an errant strand of bushy brown hair behind her ear before taking his hand; he relaxes.

"Yes, well… you've been a significant part of my changes, as you know. After Fred died…"

Hermione squeezes his hand. They sit in silence for a few moments.

"But you helped me realise that not allowing myself to enjoy anything was exactly what Fred would have hated and tried to discourage me from. That's why…" He takes a deep breath, straightening his back unconsciously; it's time to move back to the immediate present, though of course, Fred will always have a presence of a sort in his life. "…That's why I have something to ask you, about our anniversary celebration this year."

Hermione lets go of his hand in a sudden, jerky movement, the crease in her brow suggesting she has just remembered something forgotten. "That reminds me! I have something to ask you too. I _meant_ to do it yesterday…" She pushes back her chair and rushes to the hallway, summoning her favourite satchel from upstairs.

Feeling bowled over by the interruption to the carefully planned speech he has just been leading up to, Percy stares down at the dirty plates in front of him, wondering whether he can bring himself to get up and put them by the sink.

…Well, he can't just leave them on the table. That would be slovenly.

The sound of Hermione digging into her Undetectable-Extension-Charmed bag for something precedes her re-entrance into the kitchen; as Percy turns away from the sink, he sees her pull out a rolled-up scroll.

"…A few weeks ago," she begins to explain, her voice taking on the vaguely lecturing tone that he loves, "Luna told me about a short trip she had been on, and well, I know we went for meals for our anniversaries before we got married, but I thought we could do something different this time, seeing as we both have time off for once…"

She trails off at seeing his frown. "Would you – rather not? I thought it might be nice to surprise you, but…"

Percy readjusts his glasses, unsure of what to say. The nature of a surprise is to surprise, so it would be redundant to say he hadn't expected Hermione to come forward with a plan of her own. In hindsight, however, this is a rather monumental error of judgement. Hermione almost always has a plan – he learnt that from working with her when she set up her legal firm four years prior, striking out in a venture regarded as pointless by some, a waste of her talents.

He had fiddled with the cuff-links on his shirtsleeves and, the first few times, declined tea, offering clinical advice on the Ministry rules and regulations he swears by and nothing much else. Watching, with a growing humiliation prickling over his skin, as she suggested perfectly reasonable loopholes and amendments for several of them, including a few of his personal favourites, so rapidly that he could not hope to stop her.

How had he forgotten…? He should have at least told her that he was planning something different this year.

"…I've been foolish," he says at last, chagrined, and sweeps past her to fetch a scroll in the pocket of his own robes where they hang on the banister. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he adds as she follows him into the hallway. "I, too, have arranged a surprise trip for us… I was so focused on planning it that I suppose I forgot to spare a thought for what _you_ might be planning…"

There's a small pause as Hermione digests this. "I didn't think of it, either," she admits, blushing.

* * *

They sit down on one of the sofas in the living room, there to discuss things – the way they should really have done in the first place. Both of them have a tendency to go off on their own when they are excited about a project, and it has caused them to argue in the past. Hopefully, this mishap won't become a point of contention between them.

"It's a place in Wales," Hermione tells him. "A small hotel near some historical wizarding sites, the home of some very rare magical creatures, far away from any light pollution, and there are special places for each guest to star-gaze in seclusion… I know how you like Astronomy, and from what I've read about it, the history of the place all sounds rather fascinating to me…"

Hermione unfolds her scroll with deft, practised twists of her hands, ready to show him the brochure and booking confirmation.

But Percy doesn't need to see it to know what is on it, because if he were to unroll his own scroll, he would find the exact same brochure, and the booking confirmation wouldn't be too different.

The heavy discontent that had settled on his shoulders lifts. He laughs as he reaches for the scroll he has set on the arm of the sofa.

"Hermione, our plans for springing the surprises went wrong, but at least we have been moving in the same direction…"

* * *

The next day, they arrive at the hotel. It's decorated in a homely, pleasant sort of way. They like it immediately.

"We're terribly sorry," Hermione tells the receptionist, "but there was some confusion with the booking, and we've rented two rooms instead of one."

"I see," the man says, consulting a long piece of parchment to find their names. "I'm afraid we don't do refunds this close to the time…"

Percy feels the urge to tell him just how high up in the Ministry he is, and who his wife is, and what they have achieved, and so on. But Hermione's hand comes to rest on his arm, and somehow the simple gesture reminds him that this company policy is sensible from the company's perspective, that the hotel had nothing to do with the double booking, that the man no doubt recognises Hermione already, that it would be unreasonable and unfair to argue…

"Understandable," he murmurs graciously, and allows a porter to levitate their luggage up to the room they've chosen to use without further comment.

Inside the room, she smiles before reaching up to kiss him gently.

* * *

It will be a wonderful anniversary, just as planned.


End file.
